My Emily
by Abegweit
Summary: Remus thinks about the girl he loves as they dance. (One-shot)


A/N: Remus/Emily one-shot. He thinks about her as they dance during the Graduation Party. Hope you like this.

Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine... :'(

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**MY EMILY**

She wasn't the most beautiful girl in school, but to me, she was truly the one girl who is good and lovely and sweet all at once. I used to love watching her read; she would never respond to anyone when she was concentrating on the book in her hand. You could very well tell her that she was a terrible, cruel and stupid girl, and she would mere say, "Hmm..." and nod her pretty head. It used to make all of laugh so much. She would look up then, hearing our screams of mirth, and question us with a blank face, "What happened? What'd I agree to?" She knew herself so well; she was remarkably perceptive. But not enough. She never saw through me.

She was the only one among us who really considered others' feelings when we teased them about anything, and admonished us for hurting them. She forever, unceasingly worried about Lily and Phil, and hovered about them like a mother hen. They teased her about it, saying they could take care of themselves well enough. But I remember, when Phil suffered a great loss, Emily was there to hold her, to take some of her sorrow into her own self so Phil would suffer less. She was their only resort when they needed help desperately; she never let them down. She was the one who comforted James whenever he felt down, patted Sirius on the back whenever he felt worried; she was the one who gave them the strength and courage to stick on to their plan to become Animagus. She was always there for us, a true friend and confidante.

She never let go of her faith in Professor Dumbledore, not even when everything around us was dark and hopeless. She never believed that there was something in this world that was impossible; she was true to herself and her faith. Her loyalty never wavered; she was strong and brave even in the moments of worst despair and helplessness. And she had firm, implicit faith in the destruction of good against evil. She was an idealist.

She was a perfectionist, and did not rest until a task was performed to her satisfaction. Obviously, she was one of our top students. She always put her whole heart and devotion into the task at hand. And I knew that when she loved, she would do that too deeply and with her whole heart, with no conditions or inhibitions. My greatest sorrow? She would never fall in love with me, Remus Lupin. What kind of a life can I offer her, being who I am, a werewolf?

I wish I could say I didn't love her. It would lessen the pain, somehow. But how can you lie about something so inherently a part of you; something that arises from the very foundation of your being? And that is how my love for her is. I've always been intrigued by her; her soft-spoken personality with such strength of character. And perhaps it was that excessive interest in her that led to love... I can't place its root; I only know the vastness of the branches and the boughs.

Every time I look her way, to meet her sweet hazel eyes, the strings of my heart are pulled painfully, reminding me that it is only unrequited love, and one that will never be returned. I wish there had been some hope for me; I could then have borne this pain better. But even if there had been any hope, I don't think I would have thrown my hat over the fence. Because I don't want her to be hurt; I don't want her to suffer because she's with a werewolf. So it's not just unrequited love, it's partly forbidden love as well, I think, as a wry smile twists my lips.

We're adults now, standing on the threshold of our fated future. This Party will be the last merry gathering we will enjoy; merriment then will become a thing of the past and will fade away entirely. This will be my last chance to tell her I love, if I wish to. But I don't; I don't wish to hurt her, to lose this little bit of affection I've gained from her part.

Doubt is still a major part of me. What if I do tell her? Will she say what I want to hear, or will she say what I think I will hear? The former will bring me incredible happiness, but it will be bittersweet, for I can never be with her. The latter? Well, that will be part of me dying along with her words. So I will play safe; I will keep my love for her in my heart, and let it shine like a dim lamp that will guide her away from danger all through her life.

And as we dance here, on the night of our last Party, all I can think of is about having in my arms, of kissing her sweet lips, of holding her close forever and never letting go...

I guess love isn't always the blessing it's made out to be. It doesn't always bring the sweet, happy, lighthearted and light-headed feeling it is supposed to bring. It doesn't always lift you right off your feet; it sometimes brings you back to earth with a painful bump. Sometimes it's truly a curse, a bittersweet thing...


End file.
